A Myth for Musicians

She was once a perfectly normal human being. That is, until her mother decided she needed an education in music. Before the start of her career as a servant to the piano, she walked and talked and socialized like a normal child should, but when her dear mother saw early on in her childhood that she had an interest in the performing arts, she somehow got the notion that the eighty-eights would be the best place for her daughter to cultivate her musical abilities. It was when she started these lessons, when her afternoon playtime was replaced with an excruciating thirty minutes of tedious practice, that she realized the normal child she had once been was turning into a musician-child—a musician-child who had kissed her old life farewell the day she sat down for her first lesson and said hello to the rigorous, demanding life of preparing for lessons, recitals, competitions, and dinner guests who might ask to hear a selection. In short, the life of a musician always had her preparing for something.
It was about the second month of her career that she met a new friend. She sat in her living room at the piano, staring wearily at her Piano Adventures—for the Older Beginner, when out of nowhere, a small being dressed in black appeared right next to her.
“Oh, hello. Who might you be?” she asked.
The figure loomed next to her. She would have been intimidated were he not so small.
“I am a figment of your imagination,” the Phantom replied cordially. “My name is Timor, companion of all musicians. I hear you’re new to this whole music biz.”
The girl then proceeded to spill her qualms to Timor, telling him that she really didn’t want anything to do with music and playing the piano, that her parents were forcing her to take lessons. Timor listened quietly.
“I see. Could it be that you’re … frightened? Scared of your endeavors as a young musician?”
She thought about it for a moment. She had never been one to fear much, but maybe Timor was right. Maybe taking up piano frightened her.
For the months and years that followed, Timor shadowed her as she went about her musical studies. While she indeed learned a great deal on the ivories, Timor loomed over her continuously, reminding her that playing the piano was in fact a pretty nerve-wracking thing. He went with her to every lesson and recital, making her feel timid and insecure. During her daily practices, it was Timor who sat next to her on the piano bench, watching her every move.
"Woah, wait a minute!" he said one day as she was playing C.P.E. Bach's Solfeggietto.
"You just played the wrong note."
“No, I didn’t,” she protested.
“Yeah, you did. That’s an E flat, not an E. You’re playing in C minor.”
She fell silent, realizing he was right.
“Ugh! Why do I mess up every time I sit down at the piano? I’ve been playing for five years; when will I ever learn?”
Timor said nothing for several seconds, but finally, leaned in close, whispering, “Why don’t you just quit?”
The words surprised her to say the least. In all the accusations Timor had thrown at her, he’d never told her to just up and quit.
“What do you mean?”
“Just quit piano. Maybe you’re not good enough. I mean, Grieg and Kuhlau and all those child prodigies you watch on YouTube will always be better than you. Why even try? Why don’t you just quit?”
At Timor’s uncharacteristically brutal words, she felt a heavy weight placed on her chest. Maybe he was right! Of course she would never be as good as Kuhlau or Grieg.
Or maybe, maybe she wasn’t a good musician at all. Maybe that was it.
Her heart pounding, she looked up to her friend Timor. For this first time in the five years since he had become her friend, she realized that he had grown in size. He was no longer a tiny, light being, but a heavy, dark structure that seemed to push down on her.
“You’ve grown!”
“You allowed me to grow. You allowed me to stay in your life.”
“Well! You’re not welcome here anymore. I’m finished with you, Timor. Be gone!”
With that Timor vanished, and the heavy weight the girl had been feeling for years lifted from her mind. Almost immediately, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She looked up and saw a new, different being next to her. The being and clothed in blue; her face glowed with a smile.
“So. You’ve ridded yourself of Timor. Good for you. I was hoping you would.”
Obviously, the girl was a bit taken aback, and also rather skeptical, as her last run-in with these Phantoms hadn’t been all that great.
“So, who are you?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Veritas,” the Phantom replied. “I’ve watched you through your entire music experience. I’ve been beside you the whole time, but you chose to listen to Timor instead.”
“Timor said I should quit piano.”
Veritas laughed. “Timor is a lie. He finds you in your weakest moment, claiming to be your friend, when in reality, he simply wants to scare you.  It’s easy to get tangled in his lies.”
“But he’s right,” the girl argued. “I’ll never be as good as Grieg or Kuhlau.”
Veritas shrugged. “Maybe not. But that shouldn’t keep you from trying your best. The whole point of music isn’t to be as good as the person who came before you. It’s to help and inspire others—and glorify God—with your music. If you let me, I can help you enjoy your music and embrace the abilities you have. Timor came to you offering lies and insecurities. I offer courage and truth.”
That day was a turning point for the girl. She chose to embrace what Veritas had to offer and became confident in the piano player she was, not fearful of what she might never become. From then forward, she chose Veritas whenever she performed, and her outlook on music changed. Suddenly, her music became a joy for her, not a dreaded chore. It brought great pleasure and comfort.
Now, she will be the first to admit that she never fully reverted to a normal person. She still is and always will be the artsy, musician type. She wears funky glasses and cried tears of joy when her parents got her a metronome, and she longs for the day she can turn her dining room into a music room and drop a baby grand in there.
Taking up piano brought about challenges and, in a way, changed her life. But she definitely wouldn’t go back. Because in the end, Veritas won.
Veritas always wins.